And too intense the perfume of its form,
My wife commanded me to do the sin,
To take and cast it in the twinkling Thames--
A practice which the neighbourhood condemns.

So on the midnight, with a strong cigar
And scented handkerchief, I tiptoed near,
But felt the exotic fragrance from afar;
I thought of ARTHUR and Sir BEDIVERE:
And it seemed best to leave it on the plate,
So strode I back and told my curious spouse
"I heard the high tide lap along the Eyot,
And the wild water at the barge's bows."
She said, "O treacherous! O heart of clay!
Go back and throw the smelly thing away."

Thereat I seized it, and with guilty shoon
Stole out indignant to the water's marge;
Its eyes like emeralds caught the affronted moon;
The stars conspired to make the thing look large;
Surely all Chiswick would perceive my shame!
I clutched the indecency and whirled it round
And flung it from me like a torch in flame,
And a great wailing swept across the sound,
As though the deep were calling back its kith.
I said, "It will go down to Hammersmith.

"It will go down beyond the Chelsea flats,
And hang with barges under Battersea,
Will press past Wapping with decaying cats,